β wait, youβre leaving already? β (for Daeron)
β On the morrow β Gods, Aegon, I told you that, β Lips pressed into an unamused line, violet eyes complement the tale of his exasperation. The date of his departure has been known since before his arrival, information that had also been discussed throughout his short stay in the capital. Unsurprising, as well; he never visited for long ( duty called him back to Oldtown, and he would be loathe not to fulfill it ).
In time, sweet reassurance whispers, cobalt wings shall grow strong enough to bear him quickly from one home to another.
Yet melancholy threatens to grasp his heart as his gaze studies his belongings, neatly organized and packed for the road ahead. There is a home here and another there, but they are not the same. He loves the Hightowers well enough; but Lyonel and Martyn are not Aegon and Aemond, and Bethany is not Helaena, and his mother's home cannot replace his mother's presence.
A gentle clap on Aegon's shoulder ( youngest though he may be, he is more than tall enough to reach, now ), sadder thoughts willfully banished from his mind with a sigh and a softer look. β So not leaving right now β just ensuring everything is ready for me to leave at first light.β
Teasing shines in his violet gaze, reflected in a half-smile. βΒ I know you shall miss me greatly, but you still have the rest of the day to enjoy my delightful company, brother.Β β